


the carpal tunnel of love

by guccipherous



Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Concerts, Crossover, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, no actual biphobia, queer solidarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guccipherous/pseuds/guccipherous
Summary: Despite being the two youngest agents to join the FBI, Lance Sweets and Spencer Reid have never met. Until one night at a gay bar, when they do.
Relationships: Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Lance Sweets/Daisy Wick, Spencer Reid/Lance Sweets
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	the carpal tunnel of love

**Author's Note:**

> hello! somehow nobody has posted a sweets x reid fic on ao3 before, so I had to change that :) hope u enjoy

Emily had a new girlfriend, which meant that it was going to be a good week. Spencer knew the intricacies of his coworkers better than he wanted to admit, and he knew that whenever Emily met a new girl they were destined to end up at some sticky bar together, laughing so hard they almost peed about some FBI funny business.

When Spencer and Emily had both realized that they were each other’s built-in gay best friends, they had sworn to tackle every queer adventure together. After 3 years of working together, Spencer and Emily had built a friendship queer movie nights and double dates from time to time, always there when some small-town cop made a homophobic remark or when an unsub hit too close to home.

Spencer and Emily had seen each other through a lot of bad first-dates in their time as friends. A lot of relationships fizzled out when their partners realized Spencer and Emily spent more time on the jet or doing paperwork at Quantico than at home in DC, but somehow Emily had managed to find the last age-appropriate single queer woman in the DMV. Emily’s new girlfriend was a field agent over at the DC field office for the FBI, and Emily was attempting to drag Spencer along to some queer agents’ mixer at a gay bar in Dupont Circle. Spencer went only because Emily promised to pay his tab, not because he was looking for love.

Spencer hadn’t been on a successful date since he got sober, and he didn’t really enjoy dating civilians- the travel requirement for his job made him a shitty boyfriend and he was never good at opening up to new people. So, he let Emily talk him into a night on the town, at a gay bar lit with rainbow fluorescent lights and some incredibly loud pop playlist blaring.

* * *

Lance Sweets had pushed the question of his sexuality out of his mind for years. It was a headache he didn’t need to deal with when he was in high school, and when he got to undergrad he was more than happy to limit his sexual escapades to women. By the time Lance made it to grad school, though, he was ready to confront the butterflies in his stomach whenever the cute barista smiled at him.

The first time Lance had had kissed a man, he was 19. It wasn’t life changing, but it was good enough that he still thought about it, even now. Lance had dove headfirst into that relationship, but when it ended he decided he was done with his experimentation phase, and immediately made a move on the post-doc who was kind enough to help him with formatting his thesis.

He wasn’t denying his sexuality, really, but he didn’t want to go looking for trouble when he was perfectly content to date women. He didn’t know if he loved Daisy- she was a little too much sometimes with her PDA and rambling, but he liked her enough to avert his eyes when the cute barista was working at his favorite coffee shop. Lance had still signed up for the LGBT FBI Agent message board, and he usually skipped the bi-monthly queer agent mixers he got invited to.

After his weekly date with Daisy, though, Lance couldn’t help but think about the

“Does bi-monthly mean twice a month or once every other month?” He asked Daisy one night when they were having a night in.

The two of them were naked on his living room floor, surrounded by Chinese take-out containers with Firefly playing on the tv in front of them. Lance couldn’t push the invite he had gotten earlier that week out of his mind, and all he had been able to think about the last time he had sex with Daisy was how _long_ it had been since he had even thought about kissing a man.

“Both, I think. Depends on the context.”

Lance felt Daisy’s hand creep up his thigh, and he kissed her, hard. He could feel his teeth hit hers and he tried to push the gay thoughts out of his mind. Daisy was more than happy to reciprocate, kissing Lance with all the passion she could muster. Lance felt dirty for even thinking about wanting a man when Daisy was right here, next to him.

The next morning, when Sweets was waiting in the elevator he was thinking of three things. One, he had to figure out what was holding him back from figuring himself out. Two, he was _very_ happy seeing Daisy, even if he wasn’t interested in committing to a relationship right now (he was young, after all). Third, he was going to go to the bi-monthly queer agent’s mixer, even if it meant going alone.

* * *

Six drinks in, Spencer rested his head on Emily’s shoulder, huffing about how there weren’t any cute young men at the event. He wasn’t wrong- the bar was mostly filled with queer women and while Spencer loved his Sapphic friends, it wasn’t really useful in getting him laid.

Emily laughed, squeezing her girlfriend around the waist and scanning the crowd.

“I really wish I had my camera now- all these faces and I sure as hell don’t have the Eidetic memory.”

After a few more glances around the room (and another vodka cranberry), Emily pointed at a man sitting alone at the other end of the bar.

“What about him?”

Emily managed to pick the man Spencer hadn’t seen yet. His hair was curly, his suit was a little too big for him, and he didn’t look like a rough-and-tumble field agent. He looked softer. Kinder, Maybe, like he had never killed somebody before.

After another shot for courage (and one more for luck), Emily pushed Spencer off of his barstool and towards the man. Spencer didn’t feel his legs moving, but soon enough he was standing next to the man of his dreams.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Spencer sat down hard on the barstool next to the man. God, he was bad at flirting. When was he supposed to ask his name? Was this man even an FBI agent or just some poor man that stumbled into this bar the same night as the bi-monthly queer agents’ mixer?

“Sure.” The man smiled at Spencer. His eyes were dark brown and there was a dusting of freckles over his cheeks. “Tequila soda, please.”

“Of course.” Spencer waved the bartender over, ordering the stranger another round.

Glancing down at his own drink, Spencer felt his ears get hot. Was this when he was supposed to introduce himself?

“I’m Spencer-”

“Spencer Reid, PhD! I know- I’ve been to all your seminars since I’ve joined the Bureau.”

“Oh.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, and he was thankful for the colorful lights.

“I’m Lance. Sweets. I’m a psychologist for the FBI.”

Spencer didn’t know what to do next. He was used to being recognized, especially within the FBI. Being the youngest agent to join the FBI in history _was_ something that got you noticed. Spencer had _also_ heard of Lance Sweets- the only other 22-year-old who had been allowed to join the FBI.

It was a wonder they hadn’t met before, honestly.

Here they were, under the rainbow lights of a gay bar with 2 for $5 shots at the bi-monthly queer agents’ mixer.

What an introduction.

Spencer didn’t have to worry about coming up with something to say, because Lance kept talking.

“I can’t believe we haven’t met before! You’re the whole reason I applied to the FBI when I was finishing my PhD because they let you in. Of course, I didn’t have as many degrees as you but applying for a psychologist position isn’t as demanding as working for the BAU, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure being a psychologist is plenty demanding,” Spencer said, leaning against the bar for support. “With the heightened percentage of PTSD as well as other workplace stressors, I’m sure you play a far more crucial role in the operation of the FBI than I do.”

“Well thank you, Dr. Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer.”

Lance sipped at his tequila soda and gave Spencer a once over.

“I didn’t know you were…”

“A queer FBI agent who attended the bi-monthly mixer?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not. An agent who attends the bi-monthly mixer. Usually, at least.” Spencer nodded in the direction of Emily and her girlfriend, who were slow dancing together across the room. “My teammate told me she’d pay my tab if I came to one of these.”

“Then I guess you’re not the person to ask if bi-monthly means twice a month or once every other month.”

“I guess not.”

Spencer downed the rest of his drink. He didn’t drink all that often, especially since he started taking his sobriety seriously, but he could feel the liquor sitting in his stomach like a bowling ball. As a rule, Spencer didn’t date anybody younger than him _or_ fraternize with other agents. But, Lance was very cute and Spencer knew he was smart, and he was drunk enough where all he wanted was somebody else’s tongue in his mouth.

“I’ve never been to one of these before,” Lance admitted, staring down at Spencer’s hands on the bar.

“Neither have I.”

Lance hummed, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. Spencer was attractive and Lance had been drinking alone for most of the night, contemplating his internal prejudices. 3 beers, two tequila sodas and a cosmopolitan had sent him out on a tailspin, but Lance was acutely aware of how much he wanted to kiss Spencer, to feel how soft his lips were and-

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The words were out of Lance’s mouth before he could even finish his thoughts.

“Are you okay to drive?”

Lance could feel the tequila sodas sitting in his stomach, and he was aware that he was maybe twenty minutes away from a bad case of the spins if he moved too much.

“Most definitely not.”

Spencer looked around the bar, search for Emily. She had promised to give him a ride home, but he wasn’t sure if the offer would extend to Lance.

“I think the bathrooms open.”

“Well then.” Lance finished his tequila soda in one big gulp, shaking his head at the taste. “What’s keeping us here then?”

* * *

Lance and Spencer stumbled out of the bathroom, shirts haphazardly buttoned back up and untucked. They were both smiling, holding hands, and Lance felt _comfortable_. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, since he had gotten into his PhD program, maybe. Lance never wanted to let go of Spencer’s hand.

Emily spotted them first, shoving her girlfriend and clapping a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. Spencer pulled Lance over towards the bar again, legs feeling like jelly.

“I, uh, really enjoyed that.”

“Me too.”

Lance’s eyes darted around the bar. There was so much to see- the hickey he had left on Spencer’s neck, the way Emily could not stop laughing at the two of them, the ever-changing rainbow lights that were starting to give him a headache. He couldn’t quite read the smile on Spencer’s face-whether it was one of those _great let’s never talk again_ ones or one of those _I think I just met my soul mate_ smiles. Lance didn’t have too much time to think about it, though, because before Lance could even think to ask, Emily walked over and grabbed Spencer by the shoulder.

“Spence! It’s time for Jennie and me to go home.”

Spencer’s ears turned red as he looked between Emily and Lance.

“Right.”

“I’ll give you a minute to say goodbye, but I’m gonna close out our tab. If you aren’t outside in five you can find your own ride home.”

Emily pulled Spencer down to kiss him on the cheek, before patting his chest as she walked away.

Lance’s head was spinning, exactly as he expected it would be. He sat down on a barstool, keeping a firm grip on Spencer’s hand. He liked that Spencer was still humoring him, running his thumb along Lance’s as the room swirled around Lance.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Lance said, staring down at their two hands. Lance didn’t think he had ever held a man’s hand before.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Lance wanted to say that it _didn’t_ have to be goodbye, but he didn’t want to assume anything. He just stared at Spencer, with his beautiful face and his beautiful hair and his nice, big hands and how they held his so nicely.

Spencer cleared his throat and paused, and Lance was _so_ hopeful that he was going to say something about going back to his place to keep the night going.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Spencer leaned down to kiss Lance, closed-mouthed and chaste, before turning on his heel and walking straight out of the bar.

* * *

The first-person Lance told was Daisy. He didn’t have much of a choice- he didn’t want to pay for a cab so instead, he called her to pick him up from the bar. When she pulled up in front of the gay bar and Sweets came out, shirt still improperly buttoned and still very drunk, Daisy put the pieces together herself.

“Lance, I know we’re seeing other people, but I think it’s kind of inappropriate for you to make me pick you up at a gay bar to hide the fact that you’re sleeping with somebody else.”

“What do you mean inappropriate?”

“Well, I’m sure the people at the gay bar don’t want some straight man there, waiting for his girlfriend to pick him up.”

Lance’s head was still spinning. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to Daisy- whether to correct her on their relationship status or his sexuality or that he was at a gay bar because he was just a little bit gay.

“Lancelot? If you’re going to puke let me know and I’ll pull over.”

“It’s not that, Daisy.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Daisy glanced over at Lance and handed him her water bottle.

Lance was silent as he drank the lukewarm water Daisy had given him. It was spilling down the front of his shirt, and Daisy was quick to hand him a handful of napkins as she drove.

“I think I’m gay?” Lance said, setting the water bottle down in the cupholder harder than he meant to. “I fucked a man at that gay bar.”

Daisy stomped on the breaks, looking over at Lance in the glow of the streetlight overhead.

“You think you’re _gay_!?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Lance sighed, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. “I just know that I like having sex with you- love it, actually. But I had sex with this guy in grad school and I keep getting these emails about the bi-monthly queer agent’s mixer so I went tonight and I fucked my career role-model in the men’s bathroom.”

“So, you aren’t gay. You’re bisexual, or pansexual, or whatever the word is.”

“Sure.”

Daisy sighed and started driving again. Lance recognized the neighborhood- they were nearby her house. Lance wasn’t too fond of Daisy’s housemates- a handful of other grad students in DC who were a little too friendly- but he did appreciate that she was still taking him back to her place.

“Lancelot, I want to be with you no matter what your sexuality is- as long as it includes me, of course. I don’t care if you’re bi.”

“I care if I’m bi.” Lance said, barely louder than a whisper

“Then I do care about it. And if you want me to hold your hand when we go to Pride this summer, I’ll do it.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

Daisy reached over to hold Lance’s hand as she drove.

“Hey, Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

* * *

Emily didn’t let Spencer live down his one-night-stand. She immediately informed the rest of the team, and by the time Spencer got into work the next day, his cubicle was decorated with crepe-paper streamers and paper confetti. Penelope presented him with a Venti cup from Starbucks, and if Spencer had to guess there was probably a cake in the office fridge.

Spencer was uncomfortable with the attention. He had a pretty healthy personal life for somebody who only slept in his own bed maybe 3 nights a week, and he didn’t like the idea of having his personal business seen as entertainment, even if it was by the people he considered his best friends.

Morgan was the first to say something, sitting down on Spencer’s desk and ruffling the younger agent’s hair as he spoke.

“I didn’t know our resident genius was capable of such temporary emotional attachments.”

“All of our emotional attachments are temporary. Nothing lasts forever”

Morgan rolled his eyes at Spencer’s commitment to being accurate.

“Did you get his phone number?”

“No.”

“Did you get his name, at least?”

“Dr. Lance Sweets. He’s a psychologist down at the DC field office.”

“He’s the one who broke your record for the youngest agent to join the FBI, right?”

“No- I was two months and 13 days younger than him when I was accepted.” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“I see.”

Morgan looked over at the younger agent, circles under his eyes darker than usual and a scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Well, you know pretty boy, if you want our technical genius to figure out his phone number-”

“No.” Spencer drained the rest of his coffee cup and chucked it in his trash can. “Some things get left at one night. You should know that better than any of us, Morgan.”

“Don’t get sassy! We’re just trying to celebrate our kid genius getting a little lovin’ in your time off.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at that. He was pretty proud of himself- he had never been good at flirting and casual sex had always been rather unsatisfying for him, but here he was- joking about his sex life with his work friends, pretending his life was anything close to normal. He was still desperate to change the subject, to push the attention off of him and onto anything else.

Luckily, Hotch stepped out of his office with JJ following him.

“We have a case in Miami. Wheels up in 20.”

* * *

Sweets couldn’t focus for a week after he hooked up with Spencer. He wasn’t having a gay panic- at least he didn’t think so- but he was _terrified_ of breaking the FBI’s fraternization rules, especially right when he was _also_ seeing Daisy. Still, his life returned to his version of normal. Consulting on FBI cases for Booth and Dr. Brennan, mediating some inter-personal disputes, working through revising the book he was writing. There was enough time for Lance to begin to understand the consequences of his upbringing- how he wasn’t a bad person or a walking stereotype for wanting to keep things casual with Daisy so he could experiment with men.

Lance was just a man trying to figure himself out. Not a bad person, just a little unsure of himself. The only person Lance wanted to talk about this with was Booth, or maybe Angela, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to come out to people yet. He had almost thrown up when he told Daisy (whether that was anxiety or the tequila was anybody’s guess).

It took Sweets almost a month before he cornered Angelica in her office to talk about his quarter-life crisis.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“About what?”

Angela glanced around the room- at the simulation she was running and then towards the door that Sweets had closed behind him on the way in.

“It’s about me.”

“Sweets, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

Sweets sighed.

“I think I’m gay.”

“Oh my god!” Angela said, almost dropping her tablet. “Oh my god! Have you told Daisy? How did you find out? Are you cheating on her?”

Lance could feel his cheeks go warm as Angela stepped closer to him, hands on her hips and eyes wide.

“I’m not cheating on her! We’re just not exclusive.”

“And you’re gay?”

“Well, I think I’m bi. But yes.”

Angela grabbed Sweet’s arm and pulled him down to sit on her couch with him.

“I’m so happy you feel comfortable telling me, Sweets.”

She reached out and grabbed Sweet’s hand, holding it between both of hers.

“You’re bi too, right? How did you know?”

“Well, I didn’t know until I met Roxie. I thought everybody looked at girls the way I did. And then I met her and everything clicked.”

“You never thought you were making it up? Or doing something wrong?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Angela squeezed Sweet’s hand tighter between hers. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being bi. The only problem comes from assholes who think it means that you can’t commit to a relationship or that it makes you a bad person.”

Sweets felt the knot in his stomach loosen.

“I met this FBI agent at one of those mixers.”

“And you slept with him?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you need help with? Seems like you’re doing just fine on your own.”

“I just… don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

“Why do you have to deal with them? Why can’t you just let yourself feel them and figure it out as you go?”

Lance wanted to say that he wasn’t the type of man to have one-night-stands, to have a crush on a colleague he had vaguely-anonymous sex with, to even think about doing those things with a man, but he knew none of those were true. He knew that his feelings were just his attempt at projecting homophobia onto himself, and it was perfectly normal.

“Can you not tell the rest of the lab about this? Even Dr. Brennan and Booth.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Angela gave Sweets’ hand one final squeeze. “You get to come out on your own terms whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Emily sat a black shopping bag down on Spencer’s desk one night when Spencer was staying late to finish up some paperwork.

“Do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

"The FBI is setting up a sting operation at this underground metal show. I was supposed to go with Jennie but-”

“Something came up.”

“Right.”

Spencer looked in the bag- it seemed like a mess of black denim and leather, something he was wholly unfamiliar with.

“You want me to-”

“Come with me to a metal show in full getup to do some on-the-ground profiling.”

Spencer started laughing, dumping the contents of the bag onto his desk. Some impossibly tight jeans that seemed to be his size (how Emily knew what size pants he wore was another mystery), one of those BDSM harnesses, and a black denim vest emblazoned with a handful of patches that Spencer couldn’t make heads or tails of.

He weighed the pros and cons in his head quickly and then turned to Emily. Spencer was staring down the barrel of about 100 more pages of paperwork (he had fired his gun _and_ hit somebody, so the paperwork was going to be a nightmare”

“You’re buying the drinks after.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

Spencer got dressed in the back of the SUV while Emily drove. It felt very Princess Diaries- a movie he only knew because JJ made him watch is with her when she was going through a breakup at the start of their BAU days together. Emily was rambling on about how she had _almost_ forgotten how to backcomb her hair when Spencer rolled down the partition and stuck his head through the divider.

“What do you think?”

Emily laughed so hard she almost drove off of the road. Spencer looked about as opposite as he could get from his usual style, but he didn’t look bad.

“You look pretty good for a poser.”

“Actually Emily, I did some research!” Spencer scrambled into the front passenger seat of the SUV, nearly kicking Emily in the head in the process. “Did you know black metal started in the 1980s? I think what’s really fascinating about the subculture is that it’s one of the only ties between Satanism and murder! In 1993 a man named Euronymous was stabbed and-”

“You’re still a poser,” Emily said, shutting Spencer down. “You’ve never been to a concert before, let alone an underground black metal show with possible murder suspects.”

“Right.”

Spencer swallowed hard as Emily glanced over at him.

“All you need to remember is to stay out of the pit and to keep an eye out for anybody acting-”

“Like they killed somebody?”

“Yeah.”

Spencer was a little nervous- he was about to be fully out of his element while on the job- something he usually tried to avoid.

“Did you read over the case file?”

“Not yet.”

Emily handed Spencer the manila folder and he skimmed it. Nothing too crazy, especially after how long Spencer had been with the BAU. Spencer’s eyes got stuck on the name of the FBI psychology consult on the top of the paperwork.

Dr. Lance Sweets.

“What’d you read? Something important.”

“No…” Spencer trailed off as he looked out the window. “Just the guy I had that one-night-stand with.”

“Is he a suspect?”

“No, he’s a consult.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Spencer let out a loud sigh as he threw the folder into the backseat. “Should’ve expected we’d run into each other at some point I guess.”

“Are you still good to work the case?”

“Yeah. I can compartmentalize.”

* * *

Spencer realized very quickly why he had never been to a concert before. Emily had been smart enough to pack earplugs for Spencer, but it was still unbearably loud. There were too many people for his liking, and even though Spencer was taller than most of the people there he still didn’t have a good view of the exit from where he was.

Emily had abandoned him- she had gone straight for the barrier in an attempt to “get a better view of the band”, but Spencer assumed she just wanted to have a good time tonight. Spencer didn’t blame her-it had been a hard last few cases. Spencer was more than happy to hang out near the back while he waited for the music to start, but he knew he should probably infiltrate the crowd at some point, and it seemed a lot less terrifying now than when the music started.

Working his way into the crowd, Spencer was surprised to see Lance Sweets as soon as he did. He almost didn’t recognize him- the younger man was also in some god-awful metal show apparel, complete with paint smeared across his face. Spencer still thought he looked hot, but there was something _different_ about Lance this time.

Spencer wanted to go up to him, but he felt his stomach tighten up at the thought. Thankfully, Lance spotted him first, doing a quick double-take to confirm that Spencer was, in fact, real and wearing a BDSM harness at an underground metal show.

* * *

Lance didn’t have the mental capacity to work out _why_ Spencer was at this show. He didn’t really care at this point- he was just happy to see the attractive man in a silly undercover outfit, especially at a place like this. Sweets took his time pushing through the crowd to make his way over to Spencer.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

Spencer wasn’t sure what to say. He never would’ve thought he’d be running into Lance like this, and he had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your phone number.”

“It’s fine. It’s on the employee directory, anyways.”

“Ah.”

Lance looked around the crowd. It seemed like the opener was about to start, and he knew it was about to get really loud. He could see the earplugs Spencer was wearing, and he didn’t want to lose this chance at a conversation. Lance tried to pull Spencer to the back of the venue, but he was too late. The familiar sound of thrashing drums and wailing guitars soon overwhelmed anything Spencer or Lance could’ve said to each other.

The two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they observed the crowd. Lance was desperate to grab Spencer’s hand- it was calling out to him every time their arms brushed against each other.

It was silly, and Lance knew it. This was a man Lance had successfully had sex with, after less than fifteen minutes of conversation beforehand. Lance also knew that there would be no consequences if he just reached out a little bit farther and grabbed Spencer’s hand, and Spencer was probably going through the same mental gymnastics right now.

Lance’s arm stayed glued to his side throughout the first two songs. After the second song, Dr. Brennan appeared out of nowhere to ask some anthropological questions, and Spencer disappeared into the crowd in search of his teammate.

It wasn’t until the band they were here to observe (Zorch) came on that Lance found Spencer again in the crowd. Spencer had pushed his way towards the barricade and was standing fully in the middle of the crowd. Lance had been to enough shows to know Spencer was in the danger zone of sorts- and Lance watched with clammy hands as a pit opened up to Spencer’s left.

From where Lance was standing, it was obvious Spencer was oblivious to the mosh pit forming next to him. Spencer was actually getting into the music, bopping his head to the drums and shuffling his feet back and forth as he observed the band on stage. Lance did his best to push through the crowd to reach Spencer, but he didn’t move as fast as the pit.

Lance shouted Spencer’s name twice as Spencer stood at the edge of the mosh pit, and Spencer turned his head around to face Lance. This was apparently when Spencer noticed he was on the edge of the mosh pit. The crowd parted, and all Lance could focus on was the beautiful man standing in front of him, lit up by the strobe lights at the concert.

Spencer reached his hand out, Sweets was close enough to touch and Spencer really wanted to grab his hand, but before he could reach out he was body-slammed by a man twice his weight. Sweets scrambled to pull Spencer back by the back of his shirt, yanking him up from the ground and away from the growing circle pit.

Spencer was taller than most of the people he met, but not Lance. He hadn’t noticed it before- he was probably too drunk at the bar the first time they met to make a note of it.

“Thank you.” Spencer leaned over to speak into Lance’s ear.

“Of course.”

Lance was acutely aware of the fact that Dr. Brennan was somewhere in the same crowd, but all he wanted to do was kiss Spencer. He had been wondering all night what it would feel like sober- to kiss a man as smart as he was, who was queer and wasn’t ashamed about it. Lance decided not to wait to find out, and decided to act fast. He leaned in, grabbed Spencer’s face, and kissed him, hard. Their teeth didn’t knock together, but Lance could feel the metal on Spencer’s harness pressing against his own chest. Spencer was more than happy to kiss him back, throwing one arm around Lance’s neck and using his other hand to pull Lance closer by the belt-loops of his jeans.

All Lance could feel was Spencer’s hot breath on his face and his hands on his belt loops and suddenly Lance wished they were anywhere but a concert surrounded by so many other people. Lance was also growing more and more aware of the fact that his co-workers were lurking in the crowd, and that they all thought he was dating Daisy. They had been kind enough to let him know when they thought Daisy was cheating on him, and he didn’t want to deal with the emotional fall out of more perceived infidelity.

Lance dropped Spencer’s face from his hands and took two steps back.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked before I did that.” Sweets shouted at Spencer, running a hand through his hair to spike it up more.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Spencer said, stepping towards Lance so he didn’t have to raise his voice. “I feel like I should be thanking you.”

There was a loud scream from the front of the room, and both men turned towards the stage. The lead singer of the band had produced a machete and was waving it around as the music continued playing behind him. Sweets and Spencer shared a glance before they both pulled out their FBI credentials, shoving their way to the front of the show quickly.

The two men stood at the barricade, watching the lead singer carefully as he raised the knife to his neck. Sweets spotted Brennan a few people down and looked back at Spencer. When the singer started dragging the knife across his throat, and the blood started flowing, Lance abandoned Spencer for Dr. Brennan.

“Is this _real_?” was the first thing Dr. Brennan said when Sweets appeared next to her.

“It can’t be.”

But it was. Dr. Brennan realized this first, leaping over the barricade and on to the stage with Sweets following her. Without thinking, Sweets pulled off his t-shirt and used it as a makeshift bandage, applying pressure to the man’s neck.

“Somebody call an ambulance!”

* * *

Lance hated the feeling of drying blood on his hands. It reminded him of a whole bunch of bad memories, things he never wanted to remember, and it wasn’t until an EMT gave him a jacket that he was able to focus on the things around him. He had kissed a man tonight, sober, with a whole bunch of FBI agents around. He didn’t feel dirty or guilty about it, but he did wish that he hadn’t gotten interrupted by some guy’s attempted suicide for some clout in the Black Metal Scene. Lance had the urge to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

By the time he had come back to reality (and washed the blood off of his hands), Spencer was nowhere to be found. Lance asked Dr. Brennan about it, where the BAU team members had gone, but she had no idea who he was talking about.

“The BAU was here?”

“Yeah-Dr. Spencer Reid and SSA Emily Prentiss came as backup.”

“Who?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading! thank u alexis and jo for reading this before anybody else (and for being the emily's to my spencer)


End file.
